Stockholm Syndrome
by Razzmatazz Lady
Summary: Alex kidnaps a woman for CSM, but doesn't expect love! Meanwhile, Mulder and Scully try to find them with help from The Lone Gunmen, Skinner, and Pendrall. Involves time travel and the Spy Museum. Alex/OC Mulder/Scully New chap up!
1. Not Your Average Friday Night

Stockholm Syndrome 

Not Your Average Friday Night

_Why is it so dark in here? _~Melissa Scully (One Breath)

_Because the lights aren't on._ ~Fox Mulder (One Breath)

**Stockholm Syndrome** (stŏk'hōlm', -hōm')  
_n_. A phenomenon in which a hostage begins to identify with and grow sympathetic to his or her captor

Friday was always my favorite day of the week. Mondays sucked for obvious reasons. Tuesdays: not much better. Wednesdays and Thursdays were bearable, depending on what I had planned. Saturdays were filled with so many plans that by the time I got home, I could barely walk. Sunday was meant to be a day of rest, but I usually ended up catching up on some miniscule task I managed to forget. Thus, Friday was my "Me Day". That was until that fateful night…

"Bye, Dr. Anderovney!" called Agent Pendrall. I had quit telling him to call me Raelyn a while ago. I gave him a wave and grabbed my light jacket. It was still chilly for June. As I went down the vast halls of the FBI building, I felt myself starting to get a little creeped out by the desolate atmosphere. Pendrall and the security guards are the only ones who stay later than me.

I left the building and made my way across the parking lot to my black mini cooper. As soon as it was turned on, I clicked on the radio; my automatic instinct when it's dark and eerie outside. Pain by Three Days Grace screamed through my speakers. Not the most calming song, but good nonetheless. I listened to that and then the news. Apparently, some very suspicious murders had occurred recently in the D.C. area.

"Great," I mumbled to myself. "As if the FBI doesn't provide enough gruesome manslaughter, now I have a serial killer to worry about. Oie."

Doing autopsies at the FBI for a living has taught me a number of things, but I think the most evident is this: what you do for work determines how you see the world. It changes your fears and anxieties. Like how a scientist who studies germs all day sees the little buggers on everything. Or a psychologist thinks everyone he meets has some sort of personality disorder. I study brutally mangled corpses and suddenly there are murderers all over the place. For instance, I had to do autopsies on a couple of women a few months ago. The murderer was some sort of death fetishist named Donnie Pfaster. He cut off their hair and fingernails. I got a haircut that day and bit my nails for a month. Because, seriously, who needs a guy like that on their mind all day? A girl's gotta keep herself safe, right? Not to mention, I'm one of the single most paranoid people in the world.

I finally got home to my cozy little house. It's not huge and fancy, nor is it a rundown shack. It's just right for me. I don't have any pets, so it's not like I need a ton of room or anything.

Inside, I quickly changed into some pajama pants and a T-shirt. I looked around for something to drink. Coffee: too much caffeine. Vault: too much sugar. Vegetable juice: yeah, like I'm ever gonna drink that. But then I saw the Cream Soda. Perfect! Then it occurred to me; I have way too many drinks in my house. I'd have to remember to give some to my neighbors, whom I never talk to. They don't even live very close by. Humming Relient K, I poured some pop out and grabbed a bag of crab chips. Next came the great movie debate I had every Friday night. I knew I was in the mood for a Batman movie, but which one? After some heated debate (well, maybe lukewarm), I decided on Batman Begins. Cillian Murphy does have the most beautiful blue eyes, after all. I stuck it in and plopped down on the couch, turning off all the lights. Like I said, perfect. Wonderful movie, wonderful food, and an all too wonderful me.

That was until I heard a noise. More specifically, a cough. More specifically, the cough of a psycho axe murderer who had somehow managed to get into my house. I turned down the volume on the TV enough to hear without making it completely obvious what I was doing. I listened as hard as I could, but heard no more. Not that it did anything to calm my nerves. Thinking of the mace I kept in the stand at the opposite end of the couch, I began scooting that direction. Christian Bale was kicking bad guy butt on screen, but at the moment I was worrying if I would have to do the same to a robber. I reached my arm slowly towards the drawer.

Almost there…

Mace would protect me…

Hand on the knob and…

"HOLY FREAKING CRAP!" I screamed as an arm shot out of nowhere and grabbed my wrist. The arm was connected to a dark figure I assumed was a man. He yanked hard on my arm, pulling me off the couch and probably dislocating my shoulder. I screamed again, hoping a neighbor might hear me. I continued screaming and squirming as the (much stronger than me) man pulled me up and put me in some weird wrestling hold. Too close to a creep for comfort, if you know what I mean.

_Oh God_, I thought. _What if he's some sort of rapist?_ That made me scream louder and fight harder than I thought possible. I kicked, punched, and scratched the crap out of the guy. I was actually almost free when he spoke.

"Shut up," he said firmly. I stopped struggling and stared at him in disbelief. It wasn't really what he said; it was how he said it. Like I was some difficult child throwing a tantrum and he was being tolerant. It was the most pompous two words I'd ever heard. And it ticked me off.

I shoved my knee into his groin with all the might I could muster. He yelped in a voice that sounded several octaves higher than before and doubled over on the floor.

_So it is a man_, I thought. Then I sprinted to the front door. I bolted outside and ran down the drive to my car.

"Shit!" I yelled involuntarily, realizing I hadn't grabbed my keys. I turned to run to the next-door house and slammed right into the psycho. He grabbed me by my hair as I stumbled backwards and pressed a cloth into my face. I knew it was some sort of drug, but there wasn't time to think or do anything.

The last thought I had was how this would be the first time I didn't watch a Batman movie the whole way through.

Then everything went black.

**Author's Note: **Cliffhanger!Sadly, I do not own anything related to The X Files, Batman, or Relient K. Raelyn's last name is Anderovney. Scully's name in real life is Gillian Anderson and Mulder's is David Duchovney. Anderson + Duchovney = Anderovney. Pendrall and Donnie Pfaster are both real X Files characters. Three Days Grace owns Pain. Um, I'm not sure how the point of view will work for the rest of the story. It rotates, so Raelyn isn't telling the whole story. What do you think? R&R!


	2. The Spooky Spy

Stockholm Syndrome

2. The Spooky Spy

_They feel you methods, your theories are…~_Dana Scully (Squeeze)

_Spooky? Do you think I'm spooky? _~Fox Mulder (Squeeze)

"The Spy Museum, Mulder?" Scully repeated quizzically. Mulder didn't answer; he just continued walking. He stopped and held the door open for his skeptical partner and she gave him a look that said, _this is an X File, isn't it?_

A worried-looking woman in a suit was there to greet the agents when they entered the lobby. Scully looked around. She had never actually been in the Spy Museum before, but she had a feeling it was the kind of place where Mulder would spend his time. Her assumption was even more confirmed by the look of childlike excitement that came over his face as he looked around.

"Are you the FBI agents?" the woman asked anxiously.

"Yes," answered Mulder. "I'm Agent Mulder and this is Agent Scully. And who are you?"

"Helen Gomez, the curator. I have to tell you, this is all very distressing. We've never had anything like this happen here before. The custodian found it first; it was very early in the morning, thank God. We had time to react. Had to close the museum until further notice."

"Where exactly is the body?" Scully asked.

"That's the really weird part."

They went up a couple floors on the elevator and then Helen led them through a section that was filled with props and look-alike props from just about every spy movie that had ever been made. The curator walked at an alarming pace and the agents had to rush to keep up. When Helen was out of earshot, Mulder nudged Scully and bent down into a crouching position with his arms spread out at his sides. He started humming a poor imitation of the Mission Impossible theme song and doing ducks and rolls around the exhibits with an imaginary gun.

"Mulder," Scully whispered embarrassedly, making sure no one was around to see him. "First of all, you are not acting the least bit professional. Second of all, you don't need an invisible gun when you're playing Mission Impossible. You have a real one."

Mulder frowned. "Scully, I'm disappointed in you. That was so obviously the James Bond theme song. Should I try Get Smart instead?"

"I'd rather you try Charlie's Angels."

"I wouldn't mind trying them."

"Is everything all right back there?" Helen had stopped to see what was holding up the pair. Mulder hopped up and he and Scully hurried to where Helen was standing.

"Well, there you have it," she said. The agents looked around in confusion. There was no crime scene that they could see.

"I don't understand, Ms. Gomez," said Mulder. "Where is the body?"

Helen pointed to a dark rectangular hole in the wall. "It's in the shaft."

"It's in the ventilation system?" Scully said.

"No, the shaft," the curator repeated, looking slightly irritated.

"The shaft is like a vent," Mulder explained. "Visitors can crawl around inside and pretend they're real spies."

Scully gave him a look.

"Not that I've ever done it."

"Right."

Scully sighed. She crawled up into the square tunnel, which wasn't easy to do in heels. Mulder climbed up after her. Unfortunately, (or fortunately?) the shaft was not built for two-way traffic and Mulder and Scully found themselves quite squashed. It might have been somewhat romantic if not for the ghastly sight before them. The corpse had been sloppily wedged into the duct. It had a few patches of flesh and bloody tissue on it, but was mostly bare to the bone.

"Well, the lack of flesh is definitely not from decomposition," Scully said, looking disgusted. "The body barely smells and it's obvious that the flesh has been removed intentionally, possibly torn off."

Mulder turned to respond, but quickly whipped his head back after almost kissing her forehead. He nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, and what about these," he added, pointing to some marks on the exposed bone. "Do these look like teeth marks to you?"

Scully studied them. "They could be. I'll have to check them for DNA during the autopsy." She paused. "You know, it could be destitute people."

"A hobo? What makes you think the murderer's homeless?"

"Well, not necessarily homeless. But ecstasy and other drugs have been known to have consequences similar to this. There was once a boy who clawed off all of his own flesh because of LSD. People on drugs sometimes kill their companions in the middle of a high, unaware of their actions. Maybe the killer and this man snuck into the museum to do drugs. In the middle of smoking, the man's companion murdered him and…_ate_ off his flesh. After realizing what he'd done, the killer stuffed the victim in the shaft and bolted."

Mulder was quiet for a few seconds. "Only Special Agent Dana Scully could possibly come up with that."

Scully rolled her eyes. "I suppose you think it was the goat-sucker."

"No," he replied laughing. "I don't think El Chupacabra could ever stand the cold weather of DC."

"We're gonna need CSI down here to get the body out."

Scully started to climb out when Mulder grabbed her arm. She looked up.

"Scully," he said seriously. He was gazing intently into her eyes. Scully's breath was caught in her throat.

"Yes, Mulder?"

"Shaft! Can ya dig it? They say this cat Shaft is a bad motherf-"

"Shut your mouth," she said dryly.

"Talkin' bout Shaft."

**Author's Note:** Haha! Bet you thought there was gonna be some romance didn't you? Don't worry, there will be. ;) Sorry this chapter was a bit shorter…I'll be sure to make the next few long again. Next chapter's back to Raelyn (Pronounced Ray-lynn in case you didn't know), Alex Krycek, and a few other familiar faces! *****Cough* Cigarette Smoking Man *Cough*


	3. Smokescreen

Stockholm Syndrome

3. Smokescreen

_The truth, the truth...There is no truth. These men, they make it up as they go along. They're the engineers of the future._ ~Alex Krycek (Tunguska)

"And you're positive no one saw you?" Raelyn could hear a deep and raspy voice of an unfamiliar man. Everything was black; she finally realized this was due to her eyes being closed. She fidgeted; she couldn't move. She seemed to be tied to a chair.

_What happened? I remember watching Batman Begins and then…Oh my God._

It all started coming back in portions, out of order: running out of her house, reaching for the mace, fighting for her life, hearing a noise, a man yelling in Russian when she kicked his crotch, a cloth going over her mouth…

"Of course I'm sure," came another voice. This one sounded younger and annoyed. It seemed familiar…Yes; it was definitely the man who had taken her.

"I've arranged everything. Her coworkers think she's on extended vacation. She has few friends or relations. She'll disappear with no problem." This voice was also raspy, like a smoker. But it had an oily, cruel undertone. Raelyn opened her eyes involuntarily.

"Ah, you're awake, Dr. Anderovney. Good." It was the man who had last spoken. He had wavy gray hair and was wearing a black suit under a dark blue trench coat. He was, indeed, smoking a cigarette. There were other men in the room, most of who were old and smoking cigarettes. One was young and standing silently behind the Cigarette Smoking Man talking to her. Raelyn assumed he was the one who had taken her.

"What do you want?" she asked nervously.

"Well, Doctor, you have some information that's very important to us. Do you recall a certain Dr. Damien Tanner?"

"Yes…H-he died last month. A car accident, I believe."

"Did you complete his autopsy?"

"Yes, I felt obliged…he was an old coworker."

"Why would they want an FBI autopsy for a standard car accident?"

"Um, I think Agents Mulder and Scully felt there were some irregularities. They seemed to think he was murdered." It frightened her to say that word. She just wanted to keep talking, anything to stall them. She squirmed against the binds that held her. The Cigarette Smoking Man observed this.

"I've noticed you are fidgeting quite a bit," he said. "Are you frightened perhaps?"

"Ya know what I've noticed? You're all white men. Is this the KKK or something? Am I being inducted into the KKK? 'Cause that's not really my style."

This seemed to throw the group off a bit. They stared at her strangely, obviously startled by this burst of nerve. But stress had taught Raelyn to cope with humor. Apparently this irritated the Cigarette Smoking Man.

"You need to watch how you speak to us, Doctor. We are far more powerful than you could ever imagine. We will not hesitate to-"

"Y-you can't make me disappear!" she blurted hastily. "People will know I'm gone! I ha-have a family, friends, a boyfriend!"

"You have a boyfriend? Really?"

"Yeah, so if this is some twisted version of The Bachelorette and you guys are the contestants, I'm afraid the show is cancelled."

"Good Lord," muttered a well-manicured man. "She has quite the sense of humor."

"Shouldn't we hurry this up?" added another, stockier man.

The Cigarette Smoking Man waved a hand at the younger man behind him.

"Alex, please help our guest understand the urgency of this situation."

Alex smiled, pulled a gun out, and pointed it directly at Raelyn's head. She had never seen such a willingness to kill in someone's eyes.

"I'm surprised you're not walking crooked," she mumbled. She regretted it immediately. _The last thing you need is to be on these guys' bad side_, Raelyn thought to herself. _If this is their good side…_

"What?" the well-manicured man questioned, losing his formal manner momentarily.

"She got in a lucky kick," Alex said, tilting his head to one side. He had a smooth, arrogant voice even when he wasn't telling someone to 'shut up'.

"I don't suppose you yelled and tipped off the neighbors?" inquired the stocky man with the raspy voice. Raelyn got the feeling he wasn't too fond of Alex. Then again, neither was she.

"No, I-"

"Actually he did," Raelyn said, trying to get the attention off her. "In Russian. Now, I'm not too fluent in Russian, but I'm guessing he said something between 'Ouch' and 'There goes any plans of having children'."  
Alex was still smiling, but he looked thoroughly annoyed, obviously ready to knock the living daylights out of Raelyn. The Cigarette Smoking Man, however, seemed amused.

"Dr. Anderovney, I only have one more question and then you may leave."

"All right…"

"What is Dr. Tanner's code for his files on his home computer?"

" I…" she trailed off. She searched her memory. "I don't…I honestly don't know."

"Alex, please."

Alex walked up and pushed the gun forcefully into the side of Raelyn's head. Now was the time to panic.

"No, please! I haven't the slightest clue! I barely knew Dr. Tanner; he never told me his password!"

Alex grinned. "Maybe a shot to the leg would persuade her to tell the truth."

"No! I'm telling the truth! I'm not a brave person, I'm not a hero; if I knew the password, I would give it to you!"

"Not if you knew its value," Cigarette Smoking Jerk said, letting out a cloud of smoke from his mouth. "Take her away, Alex."

"NO! Please, you said you'd let me go!"

"If you answered my question. You have yet to answer, Dr. Anderovney."

"Don't kill me! His favorite color's green! Maybe that's it! He liked the Beach Boys! Please, I don't know! I just-"

_Help! I need somebody!_

_Help! Not just anybody!_

_Help! You know I need someone!_

"What the," Alex muttered as he pulled a cell phone from his pocket. The Beatles continued singing as he checked who it was. "It says Sean Pendrall."

_He took my cell phone? That's just beyond wrong, _Raelyn thought. _I made that Pendrall's ring tone because he's always calling for help…Only now I need it way more than he ever did. _

"Give it to her. But make sure she answers correctly," ordered The Cigster. Alex put the phone on speaker and clamped it her ear, making sure his gun was also close to the cranium.

"Hello?" she answered hesitantly. How could she alert him without getting her head blown off?

"Hey, Dr. Anderovney. What are you doing out so late? I tried calling your home phone, but you didn't pick up."

"I'm, uh, out with some friends. We're just…eating."

Raelyn sucked at lying.

"Oh…you're out eating this late? It's like 3:00 AM."

"Yeah, just…eating. You know. Why did you call again?"

"Oh! I was wondering if you were going to be able to do an autopsy for Agents Scully and Mulder in about an hour. Scully normally would, but she's swamped. You know she's very talented in different fields."

"Yeah, I know, Pendrall. I don't think I can…I'm, uh, going on extended vacation."

"You didn't mention it. Where are you going?"

Alex rolled his eyes. Apparently Pendrall talked too much for his taste.

"I'm going to…Florida. It's so beautiful this time of year."

Cigarette Smoking Man waved a hand to signal that she should hang up. Raelyn was hesitant to leave her only chance at the moment, but she was also hesitant to get shot.

"Well, I have to go now. Bye…Sean."

"Bye. See ya-"

Alex snapped the phone shut. He stuck it back in his pocket and pulled something else out, something silver…

"Oh God," Raelyn moaned as she saw that it was indeed a knife. But instead of slicing her throat and having blood spurt out, Alex cut the ropes holding her hands and feet. He grabbed her arm and began leading her out of the dark room, the other men observing indifferently.

"Wait! Where are you taking me?"

No one answered. Alex pulled her out into a parking lot and turned left sharply, practically dragging her to the mini cooper.

_The mini cooper?_

"Oh my God! I don't believe this! You stole my car? What is wrong with you? Have you no ounce of decency?"

"Will you freaking shut up? God, why did we have to get the coroner with the biggest damn mouth on the planet?"

Raelyn blushed. She was shy by nature, but stress and fear brought out a panicky, talkative side of her.

Alex shoved her into through the passenger door and handcuffed her to the seat. He hurried around the other side and jumped into the driver's seat. Raelyn wasn't sure how he had found her keys, which she always kept in her Batman cookie jar hidden in the back of the top cupboard in the kitchen. (Paranoia, remember?)

Then he did something absolutely unacceptable. He blindfolded her.

"What the heck?" she cried. "Is that really necessary?"

"As a matter of fact, it is. We wouldn't want you being able to tip anyone off on where you are."

"You stole my cell phone, my car, and myself. I guess I figured you'd take the house too."

"I've got my own place, thanks."

They started driving, quite fast she noted. Alex seemed a bit jerky at turns and seldom stopped, which suggested either they were in a secluded part of the city that had little traffic or he just didn't care about trivial stuff like the law. Raelyn had never gotten a ticket herself.

"So was Dr. Tanner involved in something illegal? How did you all know him?"

"That's none of your business."

"Well, just wondering…At least tell me what kind of place we're going. An abandoned warehouse, a factory, Taiwan?"

"My apartment."

_Ugh, not the answer I hoped for. In fact, I think I prefer Taiwan. Okay, I just have to pay attention. Try to find something that'll tell me where we are. And keep this psycho talking._

"Well, I…" She could think of no smart remarks. Her fear and anxiety was growing. What would he do to her once they arrived? Kill her? Or worse?

"What's wrong? Too forward for the first night?" Sarcasm dripped from each word. So, he had a sense of humor too. Probably not a good thing…

"Actually, it is. Kidnapping and blindfolding is never exactly praiseworthy, but the manhandling of a defenseless woman was a nice touch. I'm very impressed. It takes a lot of skill to be a henchman. How much do you usually get paid?"

"You know, you talk a lot for a terrified captive."

"I'm distracting you, so you won't be ready for my big move."

"And what move would that be?"

"If I told you that, I wouldn't stand much of a chance.

"I'm about ten times stronger than you. You spend all your time dissecting corpses, while I fight almost every day. I have a gun and you're wearing handcuffs. I don't think you stand much of a chance either way."

And so started a relationship of bitterness, angst, and annoyance. These things are of course known to destroy love. Yet for once they would manage to create it. Much like victims of Stockholm Syndrome, the captive would find love with the captor.

**Author's Note:** Please, please, please review! I'm begging here people! Reviews make me write faster and improve my work! Moving on…again, a bit of language and violence but that's what the Teen rating is for. Do you prefer first or third person narration? Please tell me how I'm doing on capturing the characters and if Raelyn is at all being a Mary Sue. Hope you all enjoyed this. :)


	4. Antediluvian

Stockholm Syndrome

4. Antediluvian

_Where do you get off copping this attitude? You don't even know the first thing about me. _~Alex Krycek (Sleepless)

_Exactly._ ~Fox Mulder (Sleepless)

"Why couldn't Raelyn do the autopsy?" Scully asked rather irritably. She and Mulder had been trying to question the museum workers, who didn't seem at all suspicious, when Pendrall called saying Dr. Anderovney couldn't come to the lab.

"She's going on vacation in Florida."

"Wish I was," Mulder added. The uneventful interrogations had lowered his hopes that this was an X File. It didn't help that they had to come back to work after 3:00 AM.

"I hope she's having an all right time now," said Pendrall, more to himself than anybody. "She didn't sound very happy on the phone."

"Who would at three in the morning?" Scully grumbled. "It is odd that she was out with friends this early…Maybe she has an early flight."

"Yeah, it's just…" Pendrall let the sentence trail off. He didn't want to look paranoid in front of Scully.

"Just what?" Mulder asked. Scully went in to do the autopsy alone and Mulder and Pendrall were left to talk in the hallway.

"She just acted really weird on the phone- like she does when she's nervous or…lying. What do you think?

"I'm not sure," the lanky agent replied. "People don't usually sound nervous before going on vacation or when they're out with friends. Of course, I've only spoken with Raelyn a few times, like on Dr. Tanner's murder."

"Didn't they end up ruling that an accident?"

"Yeah, can you believe that crap?" Mulder scowled. "He was so obviously run off the road. There wasn't a spot of alcohol in his system or rain on the road. They don't even have deer in that area."

"It seems like an awfully sloppy murder."

"Well, the men that killed him don't usually need to bother covering their tracks," responded Mulder grimly. "Others do it for them."

Pendrall shifted uncomfortably. He hadn't gotten quite used to Agent Mulder's offbeat ideas of the paranormal and conspiracies. It puzzled him how well he and Agent Scully got along. They were complete opposites.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Scully came out and told the two anxious men that they'd better come in.

"What's up?" asked Mulder. "You got some irregularities, Scully?"

"Just a few. The body is…abnormal."

"Abnormal how?"

"Well, take a look at the forehead. It protrudes much farther than an average human's does. Also, it's hard to tell with decomposition, but I'd say he was at least 7 feet tall. And his bone structure and teeth are just completely different than anyone I've ever seen. And Mulder, you remember how he had patches of what looked like hair on him?"

"Yeah, although it was hard to tell with the blood."

"It's animal fur, like pieces of a pelt. I think he was wearing it.  
Pendrall furrowed his brow. "But Agent Scully, that almost sounds like your describing…"

Mulder finished his sentence. "A caveman."

"But it can't possibly be a caveman," Scully said. She sounded like she'd rehearsed. "This man has only been dead for approximately 48 hours. Not to mention he was found in the shaft of the Spy Museum."

Pendrall's jaw dropped. "No way! You guys got to go in the shaft? I've never even been to the Spy Museum!"

"Yeah, it was awesome!" Mulder exclaimed. "We got to see the phone shoe from Get Smart and all the cars from James Bond and-"

"Excuse me, gentlemen, are we forgetting the point here?"

"Yeah, the point is we found a caveman who only died a couple days ago."

"Mulder! He's not a caveman!"

"Call him what you will; we're going back to the Spy Museum. We'll need help…and I know just the trio."

Alex pulled the mini cooper into a parking spot, hitting the brakes a little too hard. Raelyn rocked forward, wincing from the handcuffs tugging at her wrists. Alex jumped out, ran to her side, and opened the door.

"Don't try anything," he warned as he unlocked the cuffs. As if she'd ever try to take on someone blindfolded. The only reason she tried to fight him at her house was pure panic. Raelyn was not a femme fatale. She was not one of those girls who could take on ten guys at once. She was a geek. In fact, she was probably the worst thing feminism had seen in quite some time. Oprah would be ashamed.

She started to get out of the car, with no help from her captor, and banged her head. The now annoyed coroner stooped low, causing her mane of auburn hair to fall completely over her face. After she stood up, Raelyn began whipping her head around, trying to get the locks off her face and out from behind the blindfold. Alex watched with an amused look on his face. She was so ridiculous; it was almost cute. No, not cute…gawky. And clumsy. Those were the words he was looking for.

Alex finally took off the blindfold once they were in his apartment building. Raelyn looked around. They were at the bottom of a flight of stairs. The building wasn't as rundown as she'd expected, but it sure wasn't anything to brag about.

"I'm on the top floor," Alex said, glancing around, like cops were going to pop out of the floorboards.

"Are we going to walk up all those stairs?"

"No, we're gonna skate up them."

"But that's _a lot_ of stairs. Isn't there an elevator?"

"Are you serious? You've been kidnapped and you're whining about a couple stairs? The elevator's out of order."

So, they began their trek up the stairs, Raelyn resisting her natural impulse to whine. It was such a long and tiresome walk that even the obviously well-built Alex Krycek looked slightly winded by the time they reached his door. He prayed Raelyn didn't notice; it would only fuel her whining. In reality, she was too beat to make even the smallest complaint.

He opened the door and led her inside. Raelyn looked around. It was nondescript, with plain furniture and all the blinds closed. The kitchen and living room were connected and there was a slightly ajar door in the back that she assumed led to a bathroom or bedroom.

_Ugh, better not think about that. There's still the chance he's a rapist. Who's to say those smoking bastards didn't tell him to torture me for information I don't have? _

"You'll be sleeping in the living room," he said. _Man, she's really freaked out. She must think I'm some kind of creep. The way she looks around is like she's looking for an escape. Like that's gonna happen. _

He took over to a small coffee table facing the couch. Raelyn cried out in pain as he yanked her down. He quickly handcuffed her to the leg of the table.

"You can sleep on the couch if you want," he grumbled, obviously not giving a crap about what she wanted. He went into the back door she'd noted earlier and after a few minutes she heard him flop onto a bed. Raelyn smiled. Thank God he wasn't a very smart henchman. She went to pull the table up off the floor, but found she could. She struggled with it for a minute or so, becoming angrier by the second.

"All the furniture's bolted to the floor," Alex yelled from his bedroom, having heard her struggling. Raelyn thought she heard a twinge of laughter in his voice and silently swore to make sure he got the chair when he was arrested. For now, she'd settle for some sleep. But, when Raelyn tried to raise herself up onto the couch, she couldn't. The handcuff was too short and the couch was too far away. She writhed and stretched, but could not fit more than her legs. She sighed.

_This is going to be a long abduction. _

**Author's Note: **Woo-hoo! Finally put up the next chapter. I hope everyone liked it! I can't believe I just called Alex well-built…athletic seemed too sporty and strapping was just weird. I considered fit, but it just wasn't the same. I promise the Lone Gunmen shall be in the next chap! Keep reading and be sure to review! XD


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